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Anne Boleyn: More than a Vagina

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January is a monumental month for Anne Boleyn fans. Not only do we have the speculated date for her secret marriage to Henry VIII on the 25th of 1533, but several other less fortunate events, consisting of what would be the ultimately infamous year 1536. On January 7th, 1536 Catherine of Aragon died at Kenilworth; Henry questionably celebrated the death of his first wife by throwing parties, jousting, doting on his second, legitimate daughter Elizabeth, and wearing ‘yellow for mourning.’ These festivities lasted weeks to the offense of Catherine’s supporters and most of the public.

Yet while Henry saw Catherine’s death as the ultimate finalization of his second marriage, Anne Boleyn, 15 weeks pregnant, was nervous. Her marriage to the king already suffered fissures and cracks, and he had begun to tire of the fiery personality that had won his heart nearly ten years earlier. The king’s eye had begun to wander again, this time to her own lady in waiting, Jane Seymour.

On January 24th, Henry suffered a severe jousting accident and was unconscious for several hours. Anne was understandably distraught, and the stress of Henry’s near-death, her failing marriage, and catching her husband with Jane Seymour ‘on his knee’ likely resulted in the miscarriage of a male foetus on January 29th (ironically the same day as Catherine’s funeral).

This miscarriage is widely acknowledged to be the kick-start of Anne Boleyn’s quick demise from her already-tenuous situation as Queen. I’ve heard the loss of this baby described as her greatest failure.

I pondered this. In conjunction to this ‘failure,’ her birthing the girl who would become Elizabeth I is largely considered her greatest triumph or accomplishment.

Now, I know this is not an universal agreement, but I’ve come across these opinions often enough to feel fair in generalizing it for the sake of this post. I’m also not a mother, so if producing a child is the greatest thing a woman can do in your opinion, that’s great, too.

However, to say that Anne Boleyn’s greatest failure is the miscarriage of a child is a bit inaccurate, don’t you think? She didn’t make the mistake of miscarriage, she didn’t have a choice. Circumstances were unfortunate what with Henry’s accident and her failing marriage, but it was not a failure in the sense that she had a conscious option to instead succeed.

If you want to talk about her greatest failures, perhaps we could include making an enemy of Thomas Cromwell, or underestimating the love of the king, or what colour dress she wore on a certain day. Those are mistakes and failures, things she could have done differently to prevent the outcome that eventually came to be. Miscarriage is a biological occurrence with many factors, factors that the century was unable to control. The loss of her child on January 29th was a tragic happening. It might have been her greatest misfortune, but it was not her greatest failure.

The flip side of this coin is the birth of her daughter Elizabeth almost three years earlier, on September 7th, 1533. Was it her greatest accomplishment? Some might see it that way, and others might see it as a result of chance and good luck. Elizabeth just happened to come to term and survive infancy. Anne had very little part in the enduring existence of her daughter.

In this regard, it might be more fair to say that Anne Boleyn’s influence on Elizabeth was her greatest accomplishment, but even this is uncertain. Like all royal children, Elizabeth was raised by nurses and nannies, and saw her mother only occasionally. There is no doubt that Anne loved Elizabeth, there is no question of that, but Elizabeth wasn’t even three years old when her mother met the French swordsman on May 19th, 1536. Whatever stories were passed down and whatever idea the little bastard princess formulated on her own of Anne Boleyn may have influenced her later actions as both woman and queen, but Elizabeth was her entirely own person. Anne Boleyn had scarce much to do with who her daughter would become.

So was Elizabeth’s birth the greatest accomplishment of the ‘most controversial queen’ in English history? I just can’t say it. Labelling such an extraordinary woman as Anne Boleyn — who I often see as the epitome of womanhood and female strength — for her success as a baby-making machine is something I disagree with. She was much more than a vagina, uterus, and ovaries, despite being forced into the role of fertile, heir-producing queen.

Feel free to share, with credit, of course! :)

Feel free to share, with credit, of course! :)

She was a well-read, educated woman who formed her own opinions, supported religious beliefs that were at the time considered incorrect and scandalous, and debated at equal and sometimes superior skill with the highest and most notable noblemen and scholars of her time; she was a patron of the arts, advocate of religious reform, and supporter of the less fortunate. Her friendships — and indeed enmity — with the highest men in the land brought both greatness and demise. She defied the convention of her times by taking the bold step into independence, becoming an utterly unique person envied by all the court, and left everything she knew beyond into the murky waters ahead by capturing the heart of the most powerful man in the country, which led to the separation from the Roman Church and creation of today’s Church of England. She dined and danced with kings and queens, both supported and argued with some of the most distinguished intellects of our history. She married for love, an act in itself unknown. She defended her innocence like few had done. Her infamous death at the hand of a French swordsman and is seen as a beautiful act of bravery and true faith. Her words and actions survive today to inspire new generations of women to embrace who they are and the dare defy what society wants to mold us into.

Yes, she popped out one of the greatest monarchs, but this in itself was not her greatest act.

Anne Boleyn was more than a vagina.

Anne_Boleyn

Let them grumble!

Blonde vs. Brunette Heroines

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For some undefinable reason, blondes and brunettes have been rivals for well over 500 years. Generally, blondes had the upper hand. Fairness was beautiful, a sign of purity and grace, whereas dark complexions were not favoured and darker toned women often tried re-colouring their hair. 

Blondes dominated society and literature, and soon legend became that all heroines were of honey-coloured hair. We have Cinderella, Rapunzel, Isolde (of Tristan & Isolde), Guinevere, the Valkyries (Norse myth), and other iconic, blonde women. Tradition dictates blondes are the most gorgeous — because, ya know, they’re the only ones we know of. Yes, there are exceptions like Snow White and Jo March (one of my favourite characters of all time), but there is an image in our heads that golden locks are attached to the scalps of the girls who get the princes.

I don’t know about you, but even despite the recent amount of rather insulting blonde jokes, I still automatically picture classical women in literature with flaxen hair. Example: whilst reading Romeo & Juliet, Juliet was most definitely blonde. It was only until I watched 1968′s Romeo & Juliet that it even occurred to me that she could be anything other than fair-haired. Rosalind was brunette in my mind — and Juliet wasn’t. Huh. How brainwashed am I?

When I began the earliest drafts of brainstorming for my manuscript on the margins of grocery lists, I knew right away that my heroine was not going to be blonde. She was going to be brunette. Part of it was that I am brunette, and I love it. The more major influence for her hair colour, however, was avoiding that traditional stereotype. Having a female protagonist, blonde? Geez, cliché much, Libby? So she had brown hair. Simple. Easy. Familiar.

A friend and I discussed this yesterday. She mentioned that she made her heroine blonde to escape the stereotype of female main characters with dark hair. At first I didn’t understand what she was saying. What are you talking about? Blonde heroines are the stereotype.

But I thought about it.

In YA novels, especially in recent years, the leading woman is brunette. Hermione Granger of Harry Potter, Arya of The Inheritance Cycle, Katsa of Graceling, Katniss of The Hunger Games, Calwyn of The Singer of All Songs, Bella Swan of Twilight (I only include her to prove my point), Aislinn, Leslie, and Ani of Wicked Lovely, Bitterblue of, er, Bitterblue…Need I continue?* It’d be fascinating to ask these

Leslie, dark-haired heroine of Ink Exchange

 authors if the hair colour of these women was to avoid the blonde stereotype. If so, then it seems that in avoiding the golden stereotype, we’ve only created a new one.

 Fascinating.

And, I really have to say this (my body isn’t allowing me another choice): Anne Boleyn, while famous for her beautiful eyes and elegance, was not considered traditionally attractive by the standards of her time. Dark-haired with darker toned skin, her predecessor, Catherine of Aragon, was generally acknowledged to be more beautiful with her fair hair and blue eyes (or, more conventionally beautiful.), and her successor, Jane Seymour, was a more traditional English Rose with her almost-extreme paleness. The ways of the world are strange. The Victorians, the romanticists they were, often portrayed Anne in art as a blonde, trying to add conventional beauty to enhance her already-tragic end. There. I said it. 

Do you think, that in ten years or so, writers will be making their protagonists blonde to escape the brunette stereotype? Have you contributed to this new stereotype? Have you noticed this before?

*I realize that these are all fantasy or urban fantasy characters. As I generally only read fantasy and historical nonfiction, my variety of dark-haired ladies from other genres is lacking.

Another Nursery Rhyme

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[Warning. Longer post than intended.]

Divorced, beheaded, died

Divorced, beheaded, survived.

This nursery rhyme depicts the fate of each of Henry VIII’s wives; ironically it is usually only by their fate they are remembered. Just to give ya’ll a brief run-down of the six women who were married to ‘Bluff King Hal’…

Catherine of Aragon: 1486-1536

This pious, intelligent little woman was married briefly to Arthur Tudor in October 1501 before his death shortly after. She married his younger brother Henry in 1509 when she was 23 and he was 17. She suffered several miscarriages, stillborns, and children who died shortly after birth (take little Prince Henry, alive for 52 days), was strong in her faith, her love for her surviving daughter Mary, and her love and devotion to her husband. Daughter of the Spanish Kings Ferdinand of Aragon and Isabella of Castile, sister of Juana the Mad, and aunt of Emperor Charles V, Catherine was a princess by birth and by actions. When Henry began his campaign to divorce her, Catherine caused him a rather impressive six-year headache. She was only one of two of Henry’s wives to serve as regent while he was at war. Her daughter would one day become Mary I, or “Bloody Mary.”

Anne Boleyn: c.1501-1536

Witty, fiery, temperamental, intelligent Anne Boleyn was educated under Margaret of Austria and served two Queens of France. She caught the king’s eye when she returned to England to serve Catherine of Aragon, sometime after her sister Mary’s affair with him in the early 1520s. After six years of courtship, Anne and Henry married in secret in 1533, and Anne gave birth to a baby girl on September 7th. Anne was also highly passionate about the Reform of the Church, and she can be pinned down to the woman responsible for England’s break from Rome. Her pregnancies in 1534 and 1536 both ended in miscarriage, and her argumentative, jealous ways were beginning to wear on her husband, who was starting to pay attention to lady-in-waiting Jane Seymour. Anne was executed on fabricated charges of adultery, incest, and treason on 19 May 1536. Five men were executed in association with her, including her younger brother George. Her daughter became Elizabeth I, or “Gloriana.”

Jane Seymour: c.1508-1537

Not much is known about the pale, prim woman whom Holbein captures on canvas. Quiet, pious, thought to be leaning towards the ‘old religion,’ many people believe her to be the polar opposite of her flighty predecessor Anne. Probably educated and intelligent, Jane was much loved by Henry, and her brothers Edward and Thomas became prominent men in the court. She gave birth in 1537 to the long-awaited male heir, but died shortly after. Her son became the boy-king Edward VI.

 Anne of Cleves: 1515-1557

Educated differently than her predecessors but still intelligent, innocent, and ultimately self-preserving, Anne of Cleves make up Wife No. 4 of the list. Despite having gone down in history as ‘the Flander’s mare’ and the ‘ugly wife,’ modern society generally agrees that Holbein’s portrait of her is the most flattering of the six wives. After the death of Jane Seymour, Henry was persuaded by his man Thomas Cromwell (the figure given credit to the destruction of Anne Boleyn) to marry one of the sisters of the Duke of Cleves, therefore making a Protestant alliance against the Catholic Spain. Holbein was sent to paint the sisters, Anna and Amelia, and became enamoured by the portrait of the elder, Anna. She was sent for and Henry was anxious to meet his 24-year-old bride, but when she finally arrived in England everything fell apart. Henry, the romantic buffoon that he was, decided to sneak up upon Anna in a guise as so many courtly romantic figures did. Unfortunately, Anne, who couldn’t speak a stitch of English at the time, didn’t recognize him (he was disguised, after all!) and ignored the strange man trying to embrace her. It went downhill from there. After a lavish wedding, Henry declared he couldn’t consummate his marriage because his wife just didn’t excite him, but quickly defended his manhood saying he felt he could ‘do so with other women.’ Anyway, Anne readily agreed to an annulment and accepted the title of ‘the King’s beloved sister.’ She was given manors and money and was the highest woman in England save for the King’s wife and his daughters. Anne lived to see her ex-stepdaughter Mary become Queen and rode with Elizabeth in the procession.

Katheryn Howard: c.1521-1542

Polite, energetic, generous, and a bit naïve, this cousin of Anne Boleyn also made her mark on the King. She served Anne of Cleves and quickly caught the King’s eye, steering away from her crush Thomas Culpepper. Katheryn was married to Henry only six weeks after the annulment of his marriage with Anne and quickly became the apple of his eye. His “Rose Without a Thorn” however, had some secrets. After her past and promiscuous life was exposed, the young queen and her lady were sent to block on 13 February 1542. Read my post on Katheryn here.

 Katherine Parr: 1512-1548

Highly intelligent with a passion for the Religious Reform, Katherine was already twice-widowed when she married Henry in July of 1543. She saw her marriage to the King as an act of duty, not necessarily love, and an opportunity to further the Reform. A mother to his two younger children,Elizabeth and Edward, and a friend to his elder daughter Mary, Katherine is often known as the ‘survivor.’ Religious conservatives sought to end her radical ways and was nearly arrested; she endured, however, to become to first English queen to have a book published under her own name. After the King’s death in January of 1547, Katherine and Elizabeth moved to Chelsea where the Queen Dowager lived with her new husband Tom Seymour (brother to Wife No. 3). The remainder of her life was not exceptionally happy, though. Tom was rumoured to have been unfaithful with his own stepdaughter, 13-year-old Elizabeth. Katherine’s behaviour became strange when she joined her husband to his romps in Elizabeth’s bedroom, holding her down while he tickled Anne Boleyn’s daughter. Katherine died on 7 September 1548 after contracting puerperal fever while giving birth to a daughter Mary. It’s not known what happened to little Mary Seymour, but Tom Seymour was executed in January 1549 after attempting to marry Elizabeth. As David Starkey puts it, “Perhaps marriage to Henry had been the better part after all.”

 There is a lot of favouriting and bashing happening with Tudor fans and the wives, especially between Catherine of Aragon, Anne Boleyn, and Jane Seymour. Insults have been thrown, pathetic hate-Facebook pages have been started, and malice brewed. Why? These women have been gone for nearly 500 years and none of them directly caused the fate of another. I dislike when people pick a ‘favourite’ of the wives — they were people, not colours!

I can understand, however, finding some wives more interesting than the others. For me, the interest from greatest to least goes: Anne Boleyn, Anne of Cleves, Catherine of Aragon, Katheryn Howard, Katherine Parr, and Jane Seymour. Some of it is the personality they’ve left behind, or the legacy, or the end. I do respect each of these brave women and hope others can respect their memories as well.

Further reading:

  • Six Wives: The Queens of Henry VIII by David Starkey, 2003
  • The Six Wives of Henry VIII by Antonia Fraser, 1992 
  • The Anne Boleyn Files also has bios of the wives

OH, and guess what? Claire Ridgway, author of the Anne Boleyn Files, will be guest posting on March 6th as part of her virtual book tour. Don’t miss it!

Sing a Song of Sixpence…

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Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full of rye

Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie.

When the pie was opened, the birds began to sing,

Oh wasn’t that a dainty dish to set before the King!

The King was in his counting house,

Counting out his money,

The Queen was in the parlour

Eating bread and honey;

The maid was in the garden

Hanging out the clothes

When down came a blackbird and

Pecked off her nose!

There was such a commotion

That little Jenny wren

Flew down into the garden and

Put it on again!

This slightly morbid but catchy nursery rhyme has been around at least since the eighteenth century. Often I find myself humming it under my breath while sketching or making a sandwich. It drives my sister crazy, but this only gives me more incentive to sing it.

The origins of it are interesting. Many think it refers to Henry VIII, Catherine of Aragon, and Anne Boleyn. The king ‘in his counting house’ referring the dissolution of the monasteries, while Queen Catherine was ‘eating bread and honey’ like a good little wife. The maid — Anne — was ‘hanging out the clothes’ in service to the Queen when her nose was pecked off! This could be in reference to Henry swooping down and taking her love, marrying her, and eventually taking her virginity. Of course, with poor Catherine shoved aside and the public’s dislike of Anne, as well as his eventual gal pal Jane Seymour*, Henry and his man Thomas Cromwell were forced to put Anne away. Putting the ‘nose’ back on was, I guess, divorcing her, bastardizing her daughter, and chopping her head off.

I wonder what big toughie Cromwell would think of being immortalized in a children’s rhyme as ‘little Jenny wren’?

Also, some cooks did put live birds in their pies as a surprise, so when it was opened they would fly away. Odd, but interesting.

*Later this week I’ll do a quick telling of the story of The Six Wives, just so no one is completely lost!

Let them grumble!

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Christmas of 1530: Anne Boleyn was being treated like the Queen of England by her suitor Henry VIII, though he was still married to Catherine of Aragon. The court grumbled and complained about Anne’s postition, and rightly so. But Anne, proud and defiant, briefly changed her motto to Ainsi sera, groigne qui groigne — ‘Let them grumble, that is how it is going to be!’ (Ives, pg. 141)

This spirit has always been in me (not the spirit to date Henry VIII, however!), the spirit to defy convention and do or write or wear something that most people scorn or laugh at, or are simply afraid of. They can grumble all they want, but this is how it is.

This blog will be a combination of things that I do/wear/write/see/read about that make other people grumble, along with some lessons in Tudor history, writing, movie and book reviews, modern royalty, horses, garden gnomes and whatever else might strike my fancy or make someone grumble.

Please bear with me while I try to figure out how my own blog works, but I promise I’ll have some grumble-worthy posts up soon! (Going to see The Woman in Black  on the weekend, so I bet I’ll have lots to say there!)

I was going to attach a photo for you, but unfortunately I haven’t figured out how yet…

Remember: let them grumble!

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